"No...NO!" Bruce shot up straight in his bed,drenched in sweat.

"Just a nightmare" Bruce thought. The family had remained in his head long after he had left them in the alleyway. They had remained when he returned home,stripped off his costume and plopped himself at the Batcomputer. They had remained when he tried to do some minor work there and succeeded in distracting him until he eventually gave up. He had thought that sleep may shake them away,only for them to return in his dreams,there screams of terror as they saw the big black bat about to devour them. They haunted him.

Bruce stood up and reached toward a robe,hanging on his door only for it to fly open,revealing a red faced Alfred. "Master...Bruce..." he began,clearly exhausted. Bruce's room was on the very top floor of Wayne Manor and four flights of stairs must have been hard on the old butler. "Heard...a commotion...thought you were..." Bruce rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Easy Alfred. Just a bad dream that's all". Alfred straightened up. "Ah..very good then" he said catching his breath. "If you wanted a bed time story sir all you had to do was ask" Despite all that had happened to him the previous night,Bruce managed to crack a small smirk. "You know I installed that elevator for you right ? You could have taken that up here" The look Alfred gave Bruce was as if the latter had insulted him personally. "Poppycock" Alfred replied,smoothing out his suit jacket with gloved hands. "I've been kidnapped twice,held for ransom,escaped burning buildings and dealt with a few hooligans who thought it would be funny to slash my tires. I believe I can handle a few stairs Master Bruce." Bruce shrugged. "Suit yourself,though the installation's coming out of your paycheck. Now do you mind if I get dressed ?" Bruce had been standing in boxers the whole time. "Not at all sir" Alfred said as he backed out of the bedroom doorway. "Though I must add that the time and effort it took me to make your dinner last night is coming out of your paycheck" And with that he was gone.

Bruce slowly walked into the washroom and stared at his reflection. Though most of the woman who swooned around him still found him devilishly handsome there was no denying that his former boyish charm and looks were fading away. Grey hairs had begun to creep on his temples,something the gossip magazines took great pleasure in pointing out and his face had begun to slightly sag as did the suits he often wore at events and party's. The endless nights gallivanting on rooftops had taken there tole on him,though none would suspect such a thing. To the world Bruce Wayne was just an older playboy,a Hugh Hefner-type figure who enjoyed the booze and the women. It sometimes surprised him how easily flat ginger-ale could be mistaken as champagne. If one were to mention Bruce Wayne and Batman in the same sentence,he would simply laugh it off make a joke and everything would return to the most generic and boring conversations rich people could have.

The Manor felt eerily silent as Bruce went downstairs,dressed in a robe. He glanced at a clock on the wall,reading 7 a.m. It would be another whole hour until the maids and gardeners would show up. There was a time when Bruce only trusted Alfred with the daily chores of the Manor,whom was happily to oblige but as the years waned on he realized it was unfair to leave the well being of his home to one person,and so he agreed to hire some assistance,though not without installing hidden cameras in every room,including the washrooms to make sure nothing was stolen. Most would call it paranoid,but paranoia is what kept him alive all these years.

Bruce slipped into the kitchen,noticing a fresh pot of coffee. Pouring himself a cup he plopped himself down at the table and sipped,thinking about the day and more importantly the family he had nearly scared half to death. Before his thoughts could reach murkier territory a familiar voice called his name from behind.